I do like my hairdresser, but recently she sheared me. When I went to get a trim last week, the word 'short' must have been mentioned at some stage (eg "my, what a short skirt", or "yes please, a short black would be great"). Regardless of the context though, I came away with very, very short hair. The shaver was even used!
I walked in the front door, thanked the Knit Widower for his supportive gasp because clearly it could only be a gasp of admiration, not, for example, shock, and immediately cast on a Thermis.
Once the Thermis was off the needles, it was clear it needed some mates, so I whipped up yet another pair of Evangelines with the left over yarn (Sundara, Royal Footguards worsted weight).
Now I am much toastier, but still quite shorn.